


Anger Management

by BlackFriar



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackFriar/pseuds/BlackFriar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An angry man is always a stupid man," Chinua Achebe. Superboy learns that his anger has consequences. Unfortunately, it is not always him who will pay the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Your anger gives you great power, but if you let it, it will destroy you.” Henry Ducard, _Batman Begins_.

oOo

Superboy was angry. It had been almost a week since the Amazo incident and not once had Superman acknowledged him. After the team had taken down Amazo and impressed the league, Superboy had been sure that Superman would come around. Under Black Canary’s tutelage, he had started to channel his anger into becoming a more strategic and controlled fighter, and had been making good progress…until today.

Superboy punched hard at the cave wall, causing it to shake slightly and several pebbles to dislodge. The rage was building into a crashing crescendo inside him. He gritted his teeth and hit the cave wall even harder, leaving a fist size hole in the rock. It did nothing to alleviate the rage he was feeling. He could punch a hole in solid stone, so why couldn’t he take down a skinny teenager who was half his size?

Superboy had almost felt insulted when Black Canary had asked him to spar with Robin during training that morning. There was no doubting that Robin was an excellent tactician, as well as a highly skilled fighter and acrobat who could jump hoops around Superboy blindfolded. Superboy knew that, he was okay with that. But in a fight of pure brute strength? He could crack Robin open like an egg. 

So why couldn’t he do it this morning? Superboy had expected to find it as easy to defeat Robin as he had the first day they’d met, but had been surprised when the younger boy had not only evaded all of his manoeuvres but taken him down with one well aimed kick by launching himself from the wall. The second sparring match had been no easier and Robin had given that stupid laugh of his when he’d taken Superboy down by using his own weight against him after Superboy had thrown a fast punch. 

The anger had started to eat in at the edges at that point. Despite his best efforts, Superboy could feel it clouding his judgement and leading him to doing the one thing Black Canary was always warning him against; reacting. The third sparring match with Robin was the shortest yet. Superboy’s anger allowed the younger boy to sweep his feet from under him using an absurdly basic leg swipe. But the worst thing about it was, at that point, Superman had appeared on the Satellite Screen and seen everything. 

His face burned with humiliation and anger when he thought about it. He had done all of the actual fighting when taking down Amazo, it had been his idea to take out the android by confusing it into using too many powers…all Robin had done was stand there and throw exploding discs at it! That was all he had done when they were fighting Blockbuster as well. 

Resentment crept in with the anger. Robin was too small and skinny to actually fight the real heavy weights, all he could do was throw his little exploding toys and leave Superboy to do all the hard work, the _real_ fighting. But that didn’t matter because now Superman would think Robin was a better fighter than Superboy when he rarely engaged in contact fighting at all! Superboy ground his teeth and smashed his fist into the rock face once more.

It never occurred to him that Robin had taken him down because he had studied his fighting style over the past few weeks, and trained hard to be able to fight against him. Nor did it occur to him that his underestimation of Robin’s abilities had weakened his own ability to spar. All Superboy could think was that Robin had shown him up in front of Superman.

oOo

“Is he still sulking?” Wally pulled his head out from the refrigerator as they heard another loud bang from Superboy’s room. “I thought he was over the rage thing?”

“Guess not,” Robin muttered, feeling a guilty pang travel through him. He hadn’t meant to humiliate Superboy in front of Superman. But after the battle with Amazo, Robin had realized that his lack of powers put him at a distinct disadvantage to the rest of his teammates; something that had already occurred to him during the battle with Blockbuster. Unable to engage with the android physically (or Desmond for that matter) like Wally and Superboy, he had been forced to throwing exploding bat-a-rangs that Amazo had merely batted away as though they were flies. It was disconcerting.

Robin was used to fighting criminals in Gotham alongside Batman; two skilled fighters with no superpowers. But now he was suddenly the youngest, the smallest and the weakest in a team of super-powered teenagers fighting against super-powered villains, and it left him feeling a little under confident in his abilities. So he had been sparring as much as possible with Black Canary and Batman, both stronger opponents, to try and prove that he belonged on this team. He had asked Black Canary to let him spar with Superboy that morning because he felt ready to take down a stronger opponent using his physical strength, not just his acrobatic prowess or the weapons at his disposal. 

His elation at taking down Superboy had been short lived when he had seen Superman watching from the satellite screen…and Superboy’s face when he had realised the same thing.

“Team, report to central control,” Batman’s voice sounded suddenly over the speakers. 

They all looked at one another with interest before responding to the command. Kaldur and Robin both stood up from where they were seated and followed the floating M’gann down the corridor. Trailing in their wake was Wally, who had finally closed the fridge door and was munching on a sandwich. 

Batman’s face was on the satellite screen as they trouped in. There was no sign of Superboy, but Batman didn’t comment on his absence.

Robin had a feeling he was already fully aware of what had transpired that morning; very little happened that Batman didn’t know about. It was something which, even after all these years, Robin found both creepy and comforting.

As usual, Batman didn’t bother with formalities and launched into a description of the team’s next mission. “Unregistered Shipments have been coming into Jersey City for several weeks. Whatever these shipments contain, they are being collected late at night by the Cult of the Kobra.”

“Kobra? Again? What’s he up to now?” Wally asked, through a mouthful of Salami.

“And how are the shipments getting through unregistered?” Robin added.

“Someone on the shipping register is doctoring what those shipments contain,” Batman replied. “It was only brought to our attention when Kobra followers were seen collecting unmarked shipments from a private warehouse near the docks. This is a covert, recon mission only. Observe where the cultists are taking the shipments, see if you can determine what the shipments contain and find out who in the shipping offices is doctoring the shipping papers for Kobra. And when I say covert, I mean _covert_.” 

Batman’s masked eyes bore into them all and they wriggled uncomfortably. Not long before he had given them similar orders and they had ended up in the middle of a war between Bane, his goons and the Cult of the Kobra, resulting in the destruction of the venom factory in Santa Prisca. “Kobra may be attempting to do what he could not in Santa Prisca. We still have not discovered what their plan was, or who was behind it, and this may be another attempt to complete their aim. Do not alert them to your presence.”

Robin became aware of the sensation of being watched and knew without turning that Superboy had entered the room. He could feel his glare boring into his back.

Batman’s eyes flicked to the left and then back to the group. “You leave within the hour. Batman out.”

As the screen went blank, Aqualad turned to the team. “You heard Batman.”

oOo

It was an uneventful ride to Jersey City. Kid Flash spent it flirting with Miss. Martian, while Robin poked fun at him. Aqualad looked as if he were pondering the team’s movements for when they landed.

Superboy was also silent. Anger was festering inside him. Another mission. More orders. The League had no respect for them, for _him_. He was Superman’s clone for crying out loud, why was he letting them tell him what to do? After the Amazo incident, it should have been clear to the League that they were capable of more than glorified stakeouts. 

The bio ship landed and the team exited onto the roof of a deserted building just over a block away from their mission objective. While Miss. Martian placed the ship in stealth mode, the rest of the team turned to Aqualad for orders.

He looked even more serious than usual as he gazed back at them, his cool gaze flicking to Superboy more than once. The team leader was calm, direct and respectful towards everyone; he was the only one of the entire team who hadn’t irritated Superboy at some point, and the clone had a great deal of respect for him. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that whatever Aqualad was about to say would not be what he wanted to hear.

“We need to split up,” Aqualad informed them. “Divide and conquer. It is a large warehouse and we need to be prepared for several possibilities.” They all nodded their agreement. “Miss. Martian, Kid Flash, situate yourselves on the roof of the building across from the warehouse. You will have a clear view of everything occurring outside the warehouse. Should the Cult of the Kobra arrive to collect shipments, follow them and see where they go, but do not reveal yourselves. Batman’s orders were very clear on that point.”

“Just you and me, beautiful,” Kid Flash nudged Miss. Martian and gave her a beaming smile. She smiled politely back.

“Robin, you and Superboy will stake out the back of the warehouse. Try and gain entry, without alerting them to your presence, and see if you can access the shipping records. Robin, hack the systems to find out what it is they are shipping or uncover who is helping them. It may aid us in discovering what Kobra is planning.”

Robin nodded but looked unhappy. Superboy didn’t care though, he was furious about being partnered with the teenager who had humiliated him earlier. “And where will you be?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

“In the water,” Aqualad responded coolly. “Should anyone arrive or leave by boat, I will be in the best position to hide or follow them.”

“Why do I have to be with _him_?” Superboy demanded. “You could have put me with Kid, or Miss Martian.”

“Hey, don’t be a sore loser just ‘cause I got partnered with the babe!” Wally joked in an effort to defuse the tension, although he looked angry on Robin’s behalf.

Aqualad was calm. “It is a full moon tonight and the front of the warehouse is very exposed. Miss Martian’s powers will be able to cloak her and Kid Flash if they need it, and should the Cult of Kobra arrive to collect the latest shipment, Kid is the only one guaranteed to be fast enough to follow them.” 

Superboy opened his mouth to argue, but Aqualad interjected first, “May I have a word with you, Superboy?”

Reluctantly, Superboy followed Aqualad to the edge of the roof where the older teenager surveyed him seriously. “I know you are angry about what occurred during training with Robin this morning, but that needs to wait until after the mission. We have an objective to fulfil. However,” Aqualad’s gaze was penetrating, “you might want to consider this; would you feel better if a boy younger and smaller than you had simply _let_ you win just to save you a bruised ego? Or would you prefer that he beat you because he fought his hardest? Think about that, my friend.”

Aqualad returned his attention to the team. “Miss. Martian, when you’re in position, link us up. We should travel there separately so as not to attract attention.”

The team split into their assigned groups and disappeared into the night. Superboy and Robin were left on the roof, an awkward silence between them. 

Robin placed a hand to the back of his neck. “Uh, guess we’d better–”

“Come on!” Superboy growled and stalked over to the fire escape. He swung his leg over the parapet and started to descend without another glance at Robin. The younger boy followed quietly.

When they reached the ground, they set out swiftly and silently for the warehouse, being careful to remain in the shadows. It was late and, because they were in a primarily industrial area, deserted, but they needed to be careful nonetheless.

“So, you know how we had to dismember Amazo,” Robin began as they stole through the shadows. “If you were putting him back together again, could you say you _membered_ him?”

“I don’t care! Stop playing with words, it’s stupid!”

He almost missed Robin’s hurt expression. “Look, Superboy, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean–”

“Could you just shut up?!” Superboy snarled at him. “I don’t feel like talking right now, okay?”

Robin didn’t speak again. Superboy felt guilty until his thoughts flashed back to training with Black Canary the week before, when she had taken Superboy out in mere seconds. Robin had laughed out loud. Laughed! He wasn’t sorry, he wasn’t sorry at all!

Somewhere inside of him, a little voice that sounded remarkably like Kaldur was telling him that he was being unreasonable and unfair. But instead of reducing his hostility towards his teammate, it only served to further ignite the anger eating him alive, turning it into a red rage that blurred out all coherent thought. 

They were both silent upon arrival at the back of the warehouse. Crouching behind several large, stacked crates, they surveyed two heavily armed men at the back door. The rest of the surrounding area was deserted. 

“Those are TAR-21 Assault Rifles!” Robin informed Superboy. “Not in your typical security guard’s arsenal, so I’m guessing these guys are something more.”

“Y’think?” Superboy’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Robin winced and studied the warehouse intently. His voice was a little more formal than usual when he spoke. “There’s a small window on the second floor to the right. If that’s an office there’s a good chance we’ll be able to check for shipping records.” As he spoke, he activated the holographic computer in his glove. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Downloading city blueprints of the warehouse,” Robin responded, eyes glued to the screen and his face lit by the computer. “Yup, it’s an office. We should be able to get some information from there.”

“So how do we get in?” Superboy demanded, jerking a thumb at the armed guards. “Our _orders_ were to remain out of sight.” His voice growled slightly on the word orders, not liking how it tasted in his mouth. He was tired of taking orders, tired of being treated like a kid. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

_“Is everyone in position?”_ Aqualad’s voice echoed in their head. 

Everyone answered in the affirmative. 

_“Good.”_ Aqualad sounded pleased. _“Miss. Martian, Kid, warn us if you see the Kobra followers arriving. Robin, Superboy, can you get in the warehouse?”_

_“Working on that now,”_ Robin responded. _“There’s some heavy-duty armed muscle on the back entrance. We could take them down, but that would let them know we’re here.”_

_“There’s a couple of uglies to the front as well,”_ Kid Flash interjected. _“That much firepower? They’re guarding something big in there.”_

_“Agreed,”_ replied Aqualad. _“I have a feeling the Cult of the Kobra will make an appearance tonight. Miss. Martian and Kid, stay alert. Robin, Superboy. I will create a diversion within the water to allow you access to the warehouse. Be ready.”_

Aqualad stopped talking and Superboy wondered what sort of a diversion he would create that wouldn’t be too obvious. Within minutes, he got his answer as several large, repetitive knocks sounded from the far side of the pier, gradually increasing in persistence and volume. The two men at the back door looked alert. One of them pressed a hand to his hear and spoke, although he was too far away for them to hear what he said. Within seconds, both men were running to the pier to investigate the disturbance. 

“That’s our cue,” Robin whispered. “Come on!”

The men were almost at the edge of the pier with their guns drawn, but their backs were to the teenagers. Superboy and Robin darted silently towards the warehouse. Robin removed the line gun from his utility belt and shot a line towards the second floor window. _“Quickly!”_ he ordered Superboy, passing him the line. _“I’m going to have to hang on to you. You’re too heavy for me to hold!”_

_“You don’t give me orders,”_ Superboy snarled, even as he complied. Pressing the button, he felt a jerk and then the wind was whipping through his hair as he they were lifted from the ground and sent speeding towards the upper window. Robin hurriedly unpicked the lock while Superboy sizzled with impatience. He could have smashed the window in less than a second if only it wouldn’t give away their position.

There was a small click and the window swung open. Robin pivoted gracefully into the room while Suberboy climbed in after him. Just in time, the two men were returning to their post at the door.

_“What did you do?”_ Robin asked Aqualad.

_“Unhooked several small dinghies and created currents in the water so they would knock against the pier. Simple, but effective.”_

_“Nice,”_ Robin congratulated him. _“We’re in.”_

_“Good. See what you can find.”_

Robin removed a flashlight from his utility belt and swung it around the room to reveal a small, untidy office. There was a computer in the corner and the smaller boy sat down and turned it on while Superboy leaned against the door. He was bored. There was very little for him to do on this mission. He didn’t like stealth and creeping around, strength was what he excelled at.

The silence was only broken by the tap tap of the keyboard while Robin hacked into the system. 

_“Guys!”_ Wally’s voice echoed suddenly. _“Heads up, we’ve got company!”_

_“Cult of the Kobra?”_ Aqualad’s voice was sharp. _“How many?”_

_“Eight. And some big dude dressed in blue and gold.”_

_“Guardian?”_

_“No. I’ve never seen this guy before.”_

_“You know what to do if they leave. Robin, have you found anything?”_

_“Nothing on this system, but it does say there’s hard copy files in the records room here in the warehouse.”_ Robin blinked. _“Sheesh. Who uses hard copies anymore?_

_“Can you find those files without being seen?”_

Robin chuckled. _“You kidding? I could do this blindfolded!”_

_“Be careful. You too, Superboy.”_ Aqualad’s tone carried a warning of caution.

Superboy intended to disobey it the first chance he got. He was itching for a good fight.


	2. Chapter 2

Robin found it easy to remain in the shadows while he crept downstairs to the floor below; the city blueprints had told him that the record room was just off the main storage area of the warehouse. However, he had concerns about Superboy’s ability to remain quiet as the older teenager had made noise several times already. Robin had been tempted to ask him to wait upstairs, but one look at the older boy’s angry face and Robin decided against it. Superboy was already pissed enough at him right now. 

When Superboy’s heavy tread sounded for a third time, Robin had to turn around again and issue another cautionary finger to his lips. A suspicion crossed his mind. Was Superboy _trying_ to get caught? 

Robin frowned. Superboy may not have mastered the art of Ninja stealth like he had, but he was still more than capable of remaining silent. Robin had seen him do it. He cocked his head on one side and studied Superboy.

_“What?”_ the older boy growled, catching the sideways glance.

_“Superboy, you’re not trying to get caught…are you?”_

The sharp glance told Robin his suspicions were correct. He groaned inwardly. _“Superboy, remember what Batman said? Covert.”_

_“I don’t care what Batman said! What am I doing here anyway? You don’t need me to sneak around a warehouse!”_

Robin was no telepath but he could feel the anger coming off of Superboy in waves. If he didn’t nip this in the bud, this could be a total disaster. _“Look, Superboy, I get that you’re mad at me and I’m sorry about today, but we have a job to do so reel it in until we’re done, okay?”_

Superboy blinked before his expression hardened and he pushed Robin out of his way. _“Stop giving me orders!”_

Feeling apprehensive about where things were heading, Robin followed Superboy. They were now traversing the long corridor running the length of the warehouse and the Boy Wonder kept his ears tuned to the sound of men talking and moving boxes in the main warehouse. They would have to be extra careful from this point to keep from being discovered. 

They reached the records room and both stopped short in the doorway. A small fluorescent bulb hung from the middle of the ceiling, its dim wattage casting shadows over the mess in the room. Files were placed higgledy piggledy into the shelves lining the walls or stacked one on top of the other in piles on the floor. There was no order to it and it certainly wasn’t alphabetised. 

Superboy turned angrily towards Robin. _“How do you expect us to find anything in this mess?”_

_“I didn’t know it was going to be like this,”_ Robin defended himself. _“See, this is why people don’t use hard copies anymore!”_

Superboy gave a snort of anger, stalking into the room and aiming a kick at the nearest pile of files.

_“Superboy, don’t!”_ Robin cried suddenly.

The older teenager changed his trajectory at the last second, swinging his leg against empty air instead and almost falling as he threw himself off balance. He steadied himself and faced Robin with a glare. _“Why not? Like it matters in this mess. We’re never going to find what we’re looking for!”_

_“Not necessarily,”_ Robin replied, darting lightly into the room. He knelt beside the pile of files that Superboy had been about to scatter across the floor. _“The files we’re looking for are pretty recent. The ones on the shelves and over by the wall are covered in dust, but these three piles here are clean. They haven’t been here long so what we’re looking for has to be in one of them.”_

Superboy’s eyes narrowed but Robin crouched on the floor, then returned to the pile on the floor. He didn’t respond, merely lowered himself to the floor and picked a file off the nearest pile.

_“Try not to disturb anything too much,”_ Robin reminded him tentatively as he pulled a file from another pile. The other boy scowled into the open pages.

The worked in silence for several minutes, skimming through files until Miss. Martian’s voice cut into their heads. _“Guys, the cultists are leaving. Wally and I are going to follow, but it may put me out of range of the telepathic link. Will you be okay?”_

_“We will be fine,”_ Aqualad’s voice sounded. _“Just find out where they are taking the shipment. And do not let them see you.”_

_“Leave it to me and Miss. Martian,”_ Kid Flash responded cheerfully. _“I’ll be Ninja smooth!”_

_“Yeah, right!”_ Robin snorted. _“Try not to trip over your feet!”_

_“Dude!”_

_“Robin, Superboy,”_ Aqualad’s calm voice interjected. _“I will take over watching the warehouse from the front. You will find me there when you are done.”_

_“Okay, Aqualad. We shouldn’t be too much longer,”_ Robin returned.

Superboy and Robin worked in silence skimming through files for another ten minutes. Robin longed to talk to the older teenager. He felt bad about the tension between them and responsible for the return of Superboy’s anger. He had been doing so well until Robin felt the need to prove a point this morning. However, everything about Superboy’s stance, from the tense body posture to the angled manner in which he was sitting told Robin he did not want to speak with him. Robin sighed and glanced back down at the file before giving a sharp intake of breath. _I found it!_

He glanced at Superboy but the older boy gave no sign of having heard him. Robin realised that Miss. Martian must be out of range. He clicked his fingers and Superboy looked up. Robin waved the file at him. 

After a second, Superboy also realised the telepathic link was no longer viable. “You’ve got it? Let’s get out of here then.”

“We can’t take it with us,” Robin whispered. “They’ll know we were here.” Laying the file on the floor, he removed a small camera from his utility belt and began to snap pictures of each page. Meanwhile, Superboy returned the file he had been perusing to the pile and stood up.  
Robin finished snapping images and returned the file to its place. He stood up and faced Superboy with a grim expression. “They’re not shipping the new venom/blockbuster formula,” he whispered.

Superboy kept his voice low as well. “What is it then?”

“I need Batman to check this, but I think…I’m almost sure they’re shipping the ingredients to weaponize anthrax.”

“Very good, Boy Wonder,” a voice sneered from the doorway.

Both teenagers snapped their heads around. Robin felt his stomach drop when he saw the man standing there. _Deathstroke!_

“Did you really think that little stunt with the boats would fool me?” the man cocked an amused eyebrow. “That many boats don’t suddenly become unhooked at once. As soon as the men told me about the little disturbance earlier, I had a feeling the Junior Justice was around here somewhere. Let me guess, Kid Flash and the Martian are following the cultists? The Atlantian is somewhere in the water? Batman really shouldn’t be sending children to do a grown up’s job.”

“We’re not children!” Superboy snapped. 

“Oh really?” The sneer become more pronounced. “Robin is what, twelve, thirteen? And you must be Superman’s clone, making you…how many months old exactly?”

“Who the hell are you?” Superboy shouted, taking a step forward.

Robin threw out his arm. “Superboy, no! We need to get out of here.”

Superboy may not have known who the man was, but Robin did. Deathstroke, aka The Terminator, was a mercenary, a gun for hire. He had fought with various members of the Justice League on a few occasions and even beaten some of them. He’d almost taken Batman down once. He was a highly trained soldier and tactician, with skills to rival Batman. He also boasted extreme strength and regenerative capabilites thanks to a chemical experiment with his adrenal glands. Robin was no match for him…but Superboy might be.

He glanced at the older boy beside him. Superboy was stiff with rage, his hands balled into fists. He was ready for a fight and Robin was certain that it would only take one word from Deathstroke to ignite the powder keg within him. Superboy was strong, but his anger made him sloppy; the match with Black Canary last week and his sparring with Robin that morning proved as much. Even with his abilities, Superboy would be hard pushed to beat someone as skilled as Deathstroke given his current rage. And Deathstroke knew Superman’s weakness which meant he knew Superboy’s, and if he had come prepared…

Robin took a deep breath. They had to get out of here, best course of action. Problem was, the only way out was through the doorway Deathstroke stood in. Robin backed up a step or two and tugged on Superboy’s arm to get him to move. They needed to lure Deathstroke into the room so they would have a chance to get out of the room. 

Superboy didn’t budge. Robin tugged his arm again. “Superboy,” he hissed.

The older teenager glanced down at him, his eyes practically burning with anger. “What?”

“Back up. We need to get him into the room so we can get past him,” Robin whispered.

Superboy growled and the glare in his eyes increased. “Are you telling me I can’t beat him? Just because I couldn’t beat you?”

_Uh-oh._ Robin realised that Superboy was determined to prove a point, just as he had been this morning. Talking him down off the proverbial ledge was going to a challenge. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle him,” Robin whispered, still tugging and trying to get Superboy to move back, “it’s just that I think he might have–”

“What’s the matter, kiddies?” Deathstroke jeered. “You scared?”

“Not of you!” Superboy growled and jumped forward.

“Superboy, NO!” Robin yelled as the older boy launched himself at Deathstroke. 

The mercenary neatly ducked and delivered a hard uppercut into Superboy’s jaw. The impact threw the clone backwards but he twisted, landed on his feet, and rushed the man again. His face was a mask of rage while Deathstroke’s curled in an arrogant smile. The man grabbed Superboy’s outstretched fist and used his own weight to propel him into the wall in a move similar to the one Robin had used this morning. Superboy gave a howl of anger and Robin could see his anger had reached blinding proportions.

The younger teenager reached for his comm. link and attempted to contact Kaldur. “Aqualad, this is Robin, come in, Aqualad.” He got nothing but static in response.

“Don’t bother,” Deathstroke called to him, delivering a lethal kick at Superboy. “There’s a scrambler blocking any incoming or outgoing radio frequencies in this building. It’s one of my precautions. Speaking of which…” 

As Superboy attacked him again, he removed a small cylindrical canister from his pocket and flipped the lid open. Superboy gave a gasp and sank to his knees, his face contorted in a pained expression. “Even brute strength has weaknesses, boy,” he commented, removing a green stone from the canister and placing it on the floor in front of Superboy. The teenager immediately slumped forward onto the ground.

Kryptonite. Robin had been afraid of this. As Deathstroke turned around to face him, he backed up a little and evaluated his options. If he was fast enough, he could get past Deathstroke and out the door. Once in the corridor, Deathstroke wouldn’t be able to catch him and he could get out and alert Aqualad. Maybe he could even grab the kryptonite on the way and give Superboy a chance to recover. But if he did that, he would be leaving Superboy defenceless. Deathstroke may not bother to follow him at all, he may just decide to stay and kill Superboy while he was weakened.

Robin considered the other option. He could try and throw the kryptonite out of the room and keep Deathstroke distracted while Superboy recovered. Make enough noise and he would alert Aqualad to the fact that something was wrong. Higher survival rate for Superboy in that scenario. 

_Plan B then,_ Robin decided.

Quick as a flash, he threw a smoke pellet at Deathstroke before diving to the floor, aiming for where the Kryptonite had been placed, but a heavy boot was driven into his side as he landed causing Robin to gasp and roll away. He flipped backwards onto his feet, narrowly missing Deathstroke’s foot as it swept towards him a second time. He could vaguely see the mercenary’s outline charging at him through the smoke and launched himself over the man’s head, using his leverage to land a hard dropkick to the man’s head as he did so. He was rewarded with a grunt of pain. Robin landed neatly on the floor, his eyes immediately scanning the ground for the kryptonite. He spotted it less than a foot away and dived for it, his hands clasping the little stone just as Deathstroke grabbed the back of his cape and lifted him up off the floor.

Robin twisted, punching hard into the man’s gut and causing him to stagger back a little, but he didn’t release his grip on the boy’s cape and instead delivered a brutal blow to the side of the boy’s head that caused his ears to ring and his head to spin. He could feel strong fingers trying to prise the kryptonite out of his hands and shook his head to clear it, delivering a vicious knee jerk into the man’s upper thigh.

His grip on Robin loosened and as the smoke dissipated, Robin got a clear view of the door. Driving his elbow back into Deathstroke’s face, Robin ran for the door. He threw the kryptonite as far down the hall as he could, then launched an exploding bat-a-rang after it in an effort to expel the stone further away, and alert Aqualad.

Strong hands yanked him backwards into the room and Robin found himself being lifted bodily and flung into the nearest shelving unit. He hit it hard, and felt something in his side snap as he crashed to the ground bringing the unit down with him. It landed on top of him and pain exploded within him. He barely had time to register just how much it hurt before he was yanked from under the shelf and a brutal punch was delivered to his face. That was swiftly followed by a sharp knee into his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. Robin reached for his utility belt and produced a bat-a-rang, but before he could throw it, strong fingers gripped his wrist tightly and bent it backwards, putting unbearable pressure on the wrist. He gave a gasp of pain and tried to move with the wrist to alleviate the pressure, but Deathstroke used his greater weight to bear down on the boy, driving him to the ground. As his knees smacked off the floor, Robin felt Deathstroke snap his wrist and the bat-a-rang slipped from his fingers and clattered uselessly to the ground. Pain was pulsating in sharp, agonizing bursts up his arm but Deathstroke refused to release the wrist. With a small cry of pain, Robin used his good arm to drive an elbow into Deathstroke’s abdomen.

The man responded by dropping the teenager’s wrist and delivering a sharp jab between Robin’s shoulder blades that send him crashing to the floor.

Ignoring the fire that lashed across his chest and trying to regain some ground, Robin rolled to the right and flipped to his feet. His eyes immediately met Deathstroke’s satisfied smirk. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” he told the gasping teenager. “But that’s what you get when you play in the big leagues.”

“Why?” Robin ground out, trying to stall for time. Aqualad had to have heard the explosion and the noise they were making by now. “Why are you working for Kobra? I thought you operated by a strict moral code?”

“Oh, I do. But I also operate when the price is right. And this time the price was right.”

“So, you’re just going to kill us, is that it?” Robin backed a little further away, cradling his broken wrist and trying to breathe. It was agony to take a breath and he realised that he had broken a rib when he hit the shelving.

“Of course.” Deathstroke looked amused. “You hardly expect me to teach you a lesson and then just let you leave. I’m not some over-puffed super-villain with grand schemes; I have a job to do. And my job involved getting a very specific shipment from point A to point B without the Justice League being aware.”

“But you messed up something,” Robin reminded him with a slight smile. “Kid Flash and Miss. Martian are tracking your shipment.” _Keep him talking; buy Superboy some time...Kaldur, where the hell are you?!_

Deathstroke waved a hand. “A decoy. Your friends are heading straight for an ambush.”

Robin felt a cold horror wash over him. “What?”

Deathstroke took a step forward. “I know what happened on Santa Prisca. I am not Sportsmaster; I do not underestimate my opponents. I was prepared for a visit from the Junior Justice League; such as kryptonite for our angry friend over there,” he jerked a chin towards Suporboy’s supine form. “Of course, I know the best course of action was to separate you all and take you down individually, so once I heard about the incident with the boats this evening, I had the truck filled with empty crates. Once I saw your fast friend take off running with his little girlfriend in his arms, I organised an ambush to meet them at the end of their journey. After all, I wouldn’t want them to have gone all that way for nothing.” 

“You know, for someone who says he’s not a super-villain, you sure do monologue a lot!” Robin snapped, worry and fear for his friends creating a panicked whine in his head. 

Deathstroke tutted. “Sticks and stones. But I do owe you a thank you, Robin. I had no idea that idiot from the shipping office kept hard copy files of our transactions until I went upstairs to find what had set off the motion sensors – yes, motion sensors. I told you I was prepared – and the security footage showed you and the hothead coming down here. Oh, I’m sorry,” he added, seeing Robin’s surprise. “Weren’t you aware that I had hidden cameras installed? Shame, shame.” He wagged a finger. “Batman would be disappointed.”

Robin glared mulishly back. 

“As I was saying, thanks to you, I can now destroy any hard copy evidence so that no one will be any the wiser to what was shipping in here. Of course, we’ll have to move our base of operations now, but at least our little secret will be safe.” The mocking smile became more lethal. “As a thank you, I’ll kill you quickly.”

“Who says I’m going to let you?” Robin countered and flung an exploding bat-a-rang at the mercenary. 

The resulting blast propelled the man backwards and knocked Robin off his feet. He crawled over to Superboy who was still unconscious on the floor. “Superboy, come on, get up! You weren’t exposed to the Kryptonite for that long!”

The older teenager groaned slightly. Encouraged, Robin shook him hard. “Superboy, please get up. I’m not gonna be able to carry you out of here!”

“You can say that again,” Deathstroke’s voice sounded above him and Robin twisted just as a boot collided with his side. Agony shivered through him and he fell forward. Another brutal kick drove itself into his side, followed by another and another. Robin felt something shatter within him. 

Twisting away desperately, he used his good hand to catch the fifth kick coming towards him and pushed upwards, causing Deathstroke to stumble backwards. His body screaming in pain and his ribs on fire, Robin backpedalled frantically in an attempt to put some distance between him and Deathstroke. He had to get back on his feet. 

But his injuries were slowing him. Deathstroke lunged forward and seized him by the front of his cape, hauling him to his feet. Robin could see the painful scorch marks on his skin from the bat-a-rang, and rage in his solitary eye. The eye patch that covered his missing eye was smoking slightly.

His good hand reached for his utility belt, but Deathstroke knocked it away and seized the belt, tearing it from his body and throwing it to the far side of the room. Robin’s gaze followed its graceful arc and for the first time that evening, he felt fear for himself.

“No!” Deathstroke hissed. “No more toys!”

He slammed Robin into the wall, driving the air from his lungs. Robin reached up with his good hand and tried to dislodge the man’s grip but the man lifted him off his feet and brought his head down in a vicious head butt into his nose. There was a loud crack and stars erupted behind Robin’s eyes, followed immediately by the sensation of pain and the warm dribble of blood. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Deathstroke gripped Robin’s broken wrist tightly and through his blurred vision, Robin saw the man smile. Without warning, the man snapped the broken wrist backwards, forcing bone through skin. This time, Robin screamed as lacerated nerve endings sent pulsating shockwaves of pain radiating through him. 

It was horrible, excruciating agony; pain was _everywhere_ as Robin tried to gather his shattered thoughts. He could hear his breath coming in short gasps through clenched teeth and closed his eyes in an effort to control it. 

“I told you I’d make it easy on you,” Deathstroke whispered in his ear. “But that little stunt with the exploding toy? That hurt. And the thing about burns is they really are the most _maddening_ sort of pain.” A fist connected with his jaw and Robin’s head snapped to the side. “I need to find a way to distract myself from the pain now.” Another punch to the jaw. “And I can’t think of anyone better to do it than _you_!” The emphasis was placed on the last word as Deathstroke once more lifted Robin bodily and flung him across the room. This time when he slammed into the shelves, they didn’t fall with him. But he still wasn’t able to get back up. 

He could hear Deathstroke’s approaching footsteps and tried to crawl away but another merciless kick was delivered to his side. “Stop!” he managed to gasp out.

There was a slight _whoosh_ as Deathstroke sank to his level. “Stop? You want it to stop?” 

Robin was once more dragged to his feet and slammed into a wall. Blearily he looked up into Deathstroke’s lone eye. The man looked grimly satisfied. “I can make it stop.”

Suddenly, hands were around his neck, squeezing tightly. Robin gave a small whimper and the hands tightened, cutting off all sound. His good hand scrabbled at the iron grip on his throat, his broken one hung uselessly at his side. He had never been strangled before. He had never imagined it would hurt this much, or be so uncomfortable.

_Let me breathe, please let me breathe!_ he begged Deathstroke silently. Darkness gathered at the corner of his eyes and pinpricks of light danced across his vision, his lungs strained and tightened painfully, frustrated, desperate, _begging_ for air. God, it hurt! 

He could no longer hear anything but the blood rushing in his ears while darkness clouded his vision. The agony slowed to a dull pain and the world closed in around him.


	3. Chapter 3

From somewhere far away, someone screamed. Was it him? Superboy was vaguely aware that the fact he was hurting was not a good thing. 

A sensation of weight pressed in on him, but Superboy couldn’t actually feel anything on him to explain why he felt heavy. His body was lethargic, slow, painful. Yeah, that wasn’t right; Superboy rarely found things painful, so why was he hurting right now?

Consciousness started to seep back to him and the black tunnel he was currently residing in seemed to be melting away. Voices floated somewhere on the periphery of awareness and Superboy became aware that he was lying on the floor. And wasn’t there something he was supposed to be doing?

A loud crash from somewhere nearby helped to expedite the return to consciousness, and Superboy tried to focus on what it was he was supposed to be doing. What had happened? From somewhere in the recesses of his brain came an image of a large man in blue and gold, brandishing a little green stone. 

Green stone. The image resonated with Superboy and more coherent thoughts started to flit back to him. The stone must have been kryptonite. He had heard enough about its effects to realise that’s what must have happened to him. He decided that kryptonite sucked and he most definitely did not like the after-effects. But his mind was becoming clearer and the pain was dulling. He could feel the weight starting to lift.

And the thing he was supposed to be doing came back to him. He was on a mission in Jersey City with the team. They were staking out a warehouse and trying to retrieve information. He and Robin had been in a dusty room full of files before the man with the kryptonite had interfered.

Robin! What had happened to Robin?

A horrible explanation for the scream drifted into his mind and Superboy opened his eyes. As his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was the man in blue and gold looming over Robin’s small frame. His hands were around the boy’s throat, choking the life out of him. Superboy gave an angry gasp and put the palms of his hands to the floor, pushing his body into an upright position. His mind was clearing rapidly now, his strength returning. Gritting his teeth, Superboy forced himself to stand, wavering slightly as the room tilted. Closing his eyes, he gave his head a quick shake in an effort to clear it. He opened them again just in time to see Robin go limp.

With a howl of rage, Superboy launched himself forward. 

Deathstroke, unaware that Superboy had regained consciousness, was taken by surprise as a fist smashed into his jaw. He staggered back, his hands releasing Robin. The boy slumped to the ground. 

Superboy placed himself between Robin and the mercenary. His eyes were filled with fury and his nostrils flared as Deathstroke turned to face him. To anyone else, the super-powered teenager would have been a fearsome sight, like a raging bull ready to charge. Deathstroke, however, smiled. “Feeling better, are we?”

“I’m going to smash you into the ground!” Superboy snarled, his voice distorted with anger.

“In case you forgot, you tried that already. Didn’t get very far. Your skinny little friend got more hits in than you did. Didn’t help him though.” Deathstroke smirked. 

Superboy clenched his fists and propelled himself forwards. Deathstroke sidestepped neatly, delivering a fast kick that knocked Superboy sideways. The teenager spun and rushed the mercenary again. This time he managed to grab the man’s arms and the two of them wrestled furiously before Superboy used his strength to fling the man across the room. Deathstroke hit the wall with a loud crack, leaving a large dent in the plaster.

The man was no longer smiling as he straightened up. “You think you can beat me? Even without the kryptonite I’m a better fighter than you. You might have Kryptonian strength, but you don’t know how to use it. You’re nothing but a second-rate Superman!”

He was goading Superboy, playing on his insecurities to distract him into making a mistake, but the teenager was too angry to see it. With a growl, he launched himself at Deathstroke only for the man to seize his arm and hurl him into the wall. The man’s laughter only fed the rage Superboy was feeling and he climbed to his feet, whirling to face Deathstroke. His anger was once more taking over, blurring out rational thought and making him forget that time was running out for his injured teammate.

Fortunately for Robin, Superboy was no longer alone. Before he could charge Deathstroke again, the man’s expression froze and his whole body went rigid. Then he collapsed to the ground revealing Aqualad behind him, placing his water-bearers back into their case.

Superboy was surprised. “What did you do?”

“Electrical charge. He will not regain consciousness for a while.” Aqualad’s gaze went to Robin’s prone form and his face darkened in concern. Moving over to the younger boy, he dropped to his knees beside him and placed two fingers to his throat. His eyes widened. “He’s not breathing!”

That shocked Superboy and he took a step forward. He watched as Aqualad gently rolled Robin onto his back and began CPR. “What are you doing?”

“Saving his life!” Aqualad retorted as he placed his hands over Robin’s chest and began chest compressions. It was the first time since Superboy had met him that he heard anger in the Atlantian’s voice. 

He watched anxiously as Aqualad tried to resuscitate Robin. After several long minutes, the younger boy gave a feeble gasp and Aqualad sat back on his heels, relief evident on his face.  
Superboy leaned over him. “Is he alright?”

“I do not know. We need to get him out of here.”

 _“Robin! Aqualad! Superboy! Are you guys alright?”_ Kid Flash’s voice echoed in their heads suddenly.

Aqualad responded immediately. _“Robin is hurt. Miss. Martian, bring the bio ship to the warehouse now!”_

 _“Whathappened?Isheokay?”_ Concern caused Kid Flash to run his words together.

 _“I do not know. We can compare notes later.”_ Aqualad gently gathered Robin’s slight frame in his arms. _“I want to get Robin back on the ship before anything else goes wrong.”_

He never looked at Superboy as he hurried from the room, leaving the clone with no option but to follow.

oOo

“What happened?” Kid Flash’s voice was loud as Aqualad carried Robin onto the ship and placed him carefully on the floor.

Aqualad didn’t answer. “Miss. Martian, get us back to the cave. Now.”

Her eyes were wide as she nodded, hurrying to her seat. The bio ship glided into the air and set a course for Happy Harbour.

Kid Flash was now kneeling on the other side of the unconscious Robin, his eyes taking in his injured friend. Dried blood had crusted beneath an obviously broken nose, and his jaw was swelling rapidly and turning an unpleasant shade of bluish red. A ring of livid purple bruises adorned his neck, but the worst as far as Wally was concerned was Robin’s right wrist; splintered bone was poking through parts of the skin, blood trickling out and pooling on the floor beneath. The image horrified him, yet he couldn’t look away until Kaldur wrapped a bandage around the wrist in an effort to still the bleeding.

“Is he okay?” Wally asked.

Kaldur didn’t look up. “I do not know. I believe he has some broken ribs and I fear I may have made matters worse when I administered CPR, but I had no choice. He wasn’t breathing.”

“Not breathing?” Wally’s voice was strangled. “Dude. What. The. Hell. _Happened_?”

“That is what I would like to know,” said Kaldur quietly as he finished wrapping the wrist and stood to face Superboy. “Superboy?”

Superboy looked startled at the accusation in Kaldur’s tone. “It wasn’t my fault; that guy had kryptonite! I was unconscious and couldn’t do anything!”

Kaldur fixed him with a stern expression. “Tell me everything that happened after you and Robin went to the records room. Word for word, do not leave anything out…including the part about you making noise to get caught.”

Superboy scowled. _Stupid telepathic link!_ Crossing his arms, the clone described everything that had occurred right up until Kaldur had taken down Deathstroke. “It wasn’t my fault,” he finished, trying to ignore the feelings of guilt that were sneaking in and flattening out his anger.

“Are you kidding me?!” Kid Flash exploded from his crouched position beside Robin. “Of course it’s–”

“Kid!” Kaldur held up a hand and gave him a warning look before turning to face Superboy. Connor had his fists clenched and his face set in a defensive expression. “So, Robin recognized Deathstroke but you had never seen him before?”

Superboy relaxed slightly. “Yeah.”

“And Robin wanted you both to get out of the room rather than fight him?”

“Yeah.” Superboy did not like where this was going.

“But you decided to fight him anyway?”

“How was I supposed to know he had kryptonite?!” 

Kaldur’s expression was stern. “You were not. You knew nothing about him. That is why you should have listened to Robin.” 

Superboy turned away, angry because he had no response.

“We can only guess what happened after you lost consciousness,” Kaldur continued. “I believe that Robin managed to get the kryptonite away to give you a chance to recover.”

“And then stayed behind to save your angry butt!” Wally interjected furiously.

Kaldur ignored him. “What happened to Robin while you were unconscious was not your fault. You were helpless and could not have aided him in anyway. However,” Kaldur’s ice-blue eyes grew cold, “once you regained consciousness, you let your anger take over. You were so consumed with rage that you thought only of defeating Deathstroke; it never occurred to you to check and see if Robin was alive. If it had taken me any longer to defeat the guards and get into that room, it would have been too late.”

Superboy dropped his head, his eyes going to his injured friend. Shame washed over him as he took in the smaller boy’s battered form. He had been too angry at Robin to listen to him, too angry to use good judgment in a fight, too angry to see that his actions had consequences…and it had almost cost his friend his life.

“I’m sorry,” Superboy muttered, dropping his head, the guilt finally extinguishing the last of his anger. “I didn’t mean…I didn’t think…”

Kaldur was beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you did not mean for this to happen, but you need to learn to control your anger, my friend. We rely on each other in battle, you cannot just give into your rage; it clouds your judgement, and the decisions you make affect us all.”

Superboy looked up and the shame was on his face for all to see. “I don’t know why I get so angry.”

“And you will never learn to control it if you do not learn to listen to reason,” Aqualad countered. 

“I know.” Superboy looked dejected. “I’m sorry about what happened at the warehouse.”

“And for being a butt head who got angry at Robin over nothing this morning,” Wally prompted. 

“Kid!” said Aqualad in exasperation. Wally merely shrugged, his hands held up in a what-did-I-say gesture.

“He’s right.” Superboy shook his head. “ _You_ were right. If Robin had just let me win to save face with Superman, then it wouldn’t have been a victory.”

“I’m glad you see that now,” Kaldur told him. “Do not forget this lesson in future.”

“Doesn’t matter how sorry he is now anyway,” Wally snorted, clearly not in the forgiving mood. “Batman’s still gonna kill him.”

oOo

“The team are returning,” Red Tornado informed Batman and Black Canary, joining them by the main computer at Mount Justice. “They requested that we have the medical bay ready for when they arrive.”

Batman’s head swivelled and his eyes narrowed. “Did they say why?”

“I did not ask. They will be here in three minutes.”

Unease furled in Batman’s stomach. Black Canary had told him about the sparring match between Superboy and Robin that morning, and he had seen the anger on the clone’s face during the mission debrief. Batman hoped the teenager hadn’t done anything stupid to get himself hurt. 

“I’ll get the medical bay prepped,” said Black Canary.

Batman nodded and joined Red Tornado en route to the loading docks. They watched the bio ship manoeuvre and land in silence. It was something that Batman really appreciated about the android; he never had to endure the same meaningless small talk that Clark insisted upon.  
The ship opened and the team began to disembark. M’gann and Superboy were the first out and Batman studied the boy closely. He did not look injured but his eyes still could not meet Batman’s. The guilt emanating from him was palpable.

Guilt. Batman’s head snapped back to the bio ship, whole body going rigid and his face hardening as he spied Kaldur descending slowly, Robin hanging limply in his arms.  
It only took three strides for Batman to reach them. Without speaking, he carefully took Robin from Kaldur, whirled, then stalked in the direction of the medical bay. 

Red Tornado was hot on his heels but Batman was barely aware of him. His heart was racing as he tried to discern just how badly Robin was hurt. He spied several fingerprint shaped bruises on the boy’s neck and the father in him roared for blood.

Black Canary turned as they entered the medical bay, wincing when she saw Batman’s face and who the patient was. “Put him down,” she instructed.

Gently, Batman laid Robin on the table and began to assist Black Canary in removing Robin’s uniform. His rage nearly choked him when he saw the bruises crisscrossing the small chest, but it was when Red Tornado removed the bandage on Robin’s wrist and Batman spotted shards of bone poking through skin that a low growl rumbled up from the bowels of his throat.

Black Canary glanced at him. “Batman, maybe you should…” Her voice trailed off as a dark glare was levelled in her direction. The only member of the league immune to _that_ look was Red Tornado, and only because he was a Robot. 

“Okay then,” she muttered, returning her attention to the injured boy. 

Batman did not interfere as Black Canary and Red Tornado assessed Robin’s injuries; their medical skills far outstripped his own. Besides, his hands were shaking too much for him to be of any real use. 

Finally, Black Canary looked at him. “He’s broken a couple of ribs, but I need x-rays to determine how many. And that wrist is going to need surgery. Batman, you need to call Leslie, she can help Red Tornado. And don’t give me that look.” Her tone was firm but he noticed that she still dropped her gaze. “ _Now_ , Batman.”

Wanting to put his fist through something, Batman did as he was bid. Once Leslie had assured him that she would be there soon, he went in search of the rest of the team. Black Canary and Red Tornado would be prepping Robin for surgery and as much as he hated to admit it, he would only be in the way. 

The team were gathered on the couch in the living room, talking in low voices that stopped the second Batman entered. His voice was low and dangerous as he addressed them. “Explain.” 

Aqualad, with a quick glance at Superboy standing alone by the wall, began an account of the evening’s events. Batman could feel himself getting angrier as the tale unravelled. His eyes went to Superboy several times, but the clone kept his gaze firmly on the floor. When Aqualad finally finished, there was silence. No one seemed willing to look at Batman or Superboy.

Batman’s eyes locked on Superboy like a heat-seeking missile. “I want to speak to Superboy,” he informed them, never taking his eyes off the boy. “Alone.”

The others glanced at the clone, then at one another. Reluctantly, they got to their feet and started to leave. Aqualad stopped beside Batman and spoke quietly. “He knows he made a mistake. Do not be too hard on him.”

Batman gave no indication of having heard him. His eyes were fixed on Superboy and he didn’t move. Kaldur and Wally exchanged uncertain looks as they left the room and Batman could hear Wally whisper, “He’s not _really_ going to kill him…is he?”

They were alone. Batman said nothing, his gaze boring into the teenager as if drilling holes in his skull. This boy had almost gotten Robin killed, and Batman would have dearly loved nothing more than to leverage him into the nearest bookcase. However, Batman was not an angry teenager. He had spent years learning to conquer his own rage, and in a day where anger had lead to very some serious consequences, it would not be a good time to forget those lessons.

The silence stretched into an age. Batman did not speak first; he was not the one who had to account for his actions.

Finally, Superboy spoke. “I’m sorry.” The words were gruff, but Batman could clearly hear the regret in them. It was a start. 

“What made you so angry that you lost control?”

Superboy looked up, but didn’t answer. Guilt was etched in every corner of his face. He looked wretched and Batman’s anger softened. Slightly. “Does this have anything to do with this morning?” A slight nod from Superboy. “What is it that bothers you; that Robin beat you or that Superman witnessed it?”

Superboy’s response was mumbled but Batman still caught the word, “Superman.” 

He sighed inwardly in exasperation. _Bloody Clark!_ The boy was never going to get a handle on his anger until the Kryptonian pulled his head out of his ass and began to acknowledge him. Bruce had talked to him just a few days ago, but Clark had been unwilling to listen. Fine. If Clark didn’t want to listen to Bruce Wayne, then Batman would just have to beat the message into Superman. Superboy’s anger was too dangerous to go unchecked anymore. Robin could have been killed tonight because this boy was confused and angry, because he needed a father. 

Batman’s anger was no longer directed at Superboy, whom he could clearly see very much regretted his actions. Moreover, he was just a teenager who had only existed for a few months, cloned from one of the most famous superheroes in the world. He was allowed a certain grace period to adjust. And he was trying; Batman had seen him attempt to conquer his rage over the last week. He had actually been doing quite well until what had happened that morning. 

Clark on the other hand, had zero excuse for behaving like a big stupid bird sticking its head in the sand to avoid dealing with reality. The most important person to Batman had just been beaten to a pulp and he would have liked nothing more than to dropkick the nearest person responsible. But he didn’t have the luxury of giving into his emotions like that, he was an adult and he bloody well had to act like one! It was high time that Clark did the same.

And if Batman had to beat it into him, then it was a minor recompense for not being able to vent his anger right now.

oOo

Pain was the first thing that Dick became aware of as he slowly came back to consciousness. Pincers of agony screwed through his wrist and it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest. Reluctantly, and very much wishing he could slip back into painless oblivion, Dick cracked open his eyes. He closed them again quickly when the room listed sideways. A little hiss escaped his mouth.

“Dick.” The deep, familiar voice sounded somewhere in the room.

“Brssss?” he managed. He swallowed, working some saliva into his parched mouth before trying again. “Bruce?” His voice was raw, cracked and no more than a whisper.

“How do you feel?” Bruce was somewhere above him now.

“Like I’ve died.” He opened his eyes again and the concerned face of his guardian came into view. Bruce was in his Batman garb, but had his cowl pushed back. “Wherm’ I?”

“Mount Justice.” Bruce sat beside Dick, slid an arm around his shoulders and slowly eased him to a sitting position. He retrieved a glass of water from the bedside table and held it to Dick’s lips. The boy lapped thirstily; the cool water felt wonderful against his raw throat. 

“Small sips,” Bruce instructed before removing the class and placing it back on the table. He plumped the pillows into a sitting position and lowered Dick against them. “You’ve been out for thirty-six hours.”

“What happened?” Dick wanted to know, trying to make sense of the disjointed memories in his head.

“Deathstroke,” said Bruce grimly.

And then it came back to him. “The team!” he gasped, trying to sit up and sending waves of pain coursing through him. “They’re–” 

“Fine,” Bruce was quick to reassure him. “Superboy recovered after you got the kryptonite out. Aqualad defeated Deathstroke.”

“But Wally and M’gann...”

“Are fine. Miss Martian used telepathy to discern that she and Kid Flash were following an empty truck and heading straight for an ambush. They turned around and came back to the warehouse once they discovered as much. Lucky for you; only Miss Martian can pilot the bio ship and you were in dire need of medical attention.”

Dick glanced down at his wrist. It was heavily bandaged but he could vividly remember the agony of bone being forced through skin.

“Red Tornado and Leslie performed surgery,” Bruce told him gently. “It will take a few months, but your wrist should heal with no complications.”

“Okay.” He paused, the band of pain across his chest making his breathing hitch. “Why does it feel like I was hit with a two by four?”

“Because you have three broken ribs and Aqualad almost punctured a lung when he performed CPR.” 

“I needed CPR?”

“Yes.” Bruce’s voice was short and clipped, his eyes going to the bruising on Dick’s neck.

Dick shivered a little, his good hand unconsciously brushing his throat. He wouldn’t soon forget the sensation of having the life strangled out of him. 

Bruce placed one large hand on his. “Do you need something for the pain?”

Dick wanted to say no. Batman rarely needed pain medication, and he wanted to prove that he could be more than human as well, especially given the powers of his teammates. 

Unfortunately for Dick, he was all too human and his battered body was screaming at him to take something. His voice was small and defeated when he answered. “Yes.”

Bruce was quiet as he administered the pain medication then sat into the chair beside Dick’s bed and scrutinized his face. “What’s wrong?”

Dick bit his lip before answering. “I feel…a little useless.” He glanced at Bruce. The man was watching him expectantly. “I mean, Superboy is Superman’s clone and has most of his abilities, M’gann has really cool Martian powers, Kaldur can generate electricity, control water and is stronger than your average human, and Wally has super speed! But me? I’m just…human.” His good hand was twisting the sheets covering him. “A short, skinny human who got his ass kicked on a mission.” 

Dick’s face was dejected and Bruce leaned forward. “Your friends may have Superpowers but they have weaknesses too. Superboy’s encounter with the kryptonite proves that.”

“Superboy’s not the one lying in a hospital bed,” Dick muttered.

“Only because you saved his life. If you hadn’t managed to get the kryptonite away and stall Deathstroke until Aqualad arrived, I doubt very much Superboy would be here now.”

“Yeah, but I could only do it by letting him beat on me.”

“Dick, don’t undersell what you did; you fought extremely well against a stronger enemy. Superboy, for his all his strength, was unable to last as long with Deathstroke as you did, and Aqualad was only able to take the man out because he was preoccupied with Superboy.”

Dick was silent for a long moment before responding. “So, I’m not just a kid with cool toys?”

Bruce’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Am I just an adult with cool toys?”

“No.”

“Then why would you think that you are?” Dick shrugged and Bruce sighed. “Dick, try and remember that even meta-humans have weaknesses that they have to compensate for. Being human just means that you compensate by being a superior fighter; something that you have already proved many times, even before your sparring match with Superboy or the fight with Deathstroke.”

Dick was silent as he digested what Bruce said. Maybe he wasn’t completely useless to the team after all. Feeling slightly better about himself, he asked, “What happened at the warehouse? Did the cultists get away?”

“No. The League took care of it.”

“What about Deathstroke?” His voice quivered a little on the name.

Bruce’s lips thinned in an angry line. “He’s in the infirmary at Belle Reve.”

“The infirmary? Why?”

“He resisted arrest.” Bruce’s face was blank as he answered, but Dick saw the flash of anger in his eyes. 

_Resisted arrest my foot,_ thought Dick. Deathstroke had probably tried to flee once the League arrived, and Batman had used it as an excuse to take him down. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help feeling comforted by the fact that someone had taught Deathstroke a lesson for his sake. He glanced at his guardian. Bruce had his head cocked to one side as though listening, and there was a faint smile on his face.

“What is it?” 

“Feel up to a visitor?” Bruce smiled as he pulled the cowl up over his head, becoming Batman once more.

Dick opened his mouth to respond when a knock sounded at the door. Batman reached for the dark glasses on the bedside table and handed them to Dick. He put them on. “Enter,” called the gruff voice of Batman.

Superboy’s very apprehensive face appeared around the side of the door. His eyes went from one masked face to another. “Is this a bad time?”

“No.” Batman stood up. “I’ll leave you to talk. I will be back later. Robin, make sure you get some rest.”

Robin nodded as his guardian swept from the room, glancing at Superboy as he did so. It didn’t escape his attention that the clone kept his eyes glued to the floor and didn’t return the look.

As the door closed behind Batman, Superboy remained rooted to the spot, gaze on the floor and shifting awkwardly. Robin didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. “I’m not gonna bite, you know,” he offered eventually.

Superboy looked up but kept his gaze on various points around the room; the bed, the chair, the wall beside the bed…anywhere but actually at Robin. His jaw was tight, but not with anger Robin realized, with guilt.

“Dude, would you just sit already?! You’re making me nervous.”

Superboy shuffled over to the bed. His sat into the chair, slouching down into as tight a crouch as his muscular frame would allow. He glanced at Robin, then looked away again quickly, clearly not knowing what to say.

Robin decided he was amused by the normally blunt Superboy at a loss for words. “Something on your mind, Supey?” 

“I’m sorry.” The words were rushed, slightly flustered.

“For what?”

Superboy gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean? For this!” He waved his hand towards the bed in an expansive gesture.

“Why? You didn’t do this.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because I…if I hadn’t…” Superboy paused, looking frustrated. “Because it’s my fault you got hurt! I was so stupid fighting Deathstroke like that…”

“You weren’t to know what would happen.”

“No, but I should have listened to you. You knew what could happen with Deathstroke and I wouldn’t listen when you tried to warn me. I guess I never thought my temper would get someone else in trouble. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

Superboy looked bewildered by Robin’s easy acceptance of his apology. His tortured expression told Robin that the older boy was beating himself up far more than he needed to. “Dude, seriously, you need to work on your positive emotions. All that brooding sucks the fun right out of life.”

Superboy looked as though he didn’t know how to respond. Robin could tell that he had fully expected him to yell, but truthfully, anger just wasn’t his thing. Robin much preferred to see the humour in life. “If it makes you feel any better, you can be my slave for the next few weeks while I’m recovering?” He gave Superboy a cheeky grin.

“I…” Superboy placed a hand to the back of his head and looked confused. 

Robin laughed. “I’m kidding, Supey! C’mon, where’s your sense of humour?” The older teenager opened and closed his mouth, not entirely sure if he was supposed to answer. “Geez, guess they didn’t programme one at Cadmus. We’re going to have to work on that.”

“How can you forgive me so easily?” Superboy demanded.

Robin shrugged. “Nothing to forgive. It’s not like you meant for any of this to happen.”

The older boy studied him, clearly still unsure how to proceed. “So…” he hesitated before continuing, “how do you feel? Really?” 

“Not exactly feeling the aster, but I’m okay. Red Tornado did a good job fixing me up.”

“So I guess you could say he _membered_ you then?” Superboy offered with a watery grin.

Robin’s face split in a delighted smile. “I thought you said playing with words was stupid?”

“I was wrong about a lot of things.”

“What sort of things?” Robin cocked his head to one side, surprised by the admission. Superboy apologising was one thing, but the hard-headed teenager admitting he was wrong? That was something else entirely.

“For starters? Being mad at you for beating me when we sparred. You were the better fighter and you beat me fair and square. Besides, it’s not like you could help that Superman saw it.”

“I’m still sorry about that,” Robin admitted, glad the tension between them was gone. “I was only trying to prove that I can be as good a fighter as the rest of the team.”

Superboy looked startled. “You’re one of our best fighters, why would you think that you needed to prove anything?”

“Because you guys all have super powers and I’m just…human.” Robin’s smile wilted a little. “It kinda sucks being the only human on the team.”

“I never thought of you as human before.”

“And now?”

“After what happened, it’s hard not to see you as human,” Superboy confessed, his hands indicating Robin’s injuries. “But that only makes me admire you more.”

“ _Admire_ me?” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, you have no powers, you’re tiny–”

“Dude, not making me feel any better,” Robin grumbled.

“But you still fight!” Superboy persisted. “You take down guys twice your size and you’re never even scared! Without my powers, I’d just be an ordinary teenager, but you…you kick ass even without powers. Plus, that disappearing ninja thing is pretty cool. I’d really like to be able to vanish without people noticing.” The older boy looked a little wistful.

“I could teach you,” Robin offered, his insecurities gone. It had never occurred to him that just being able to hold his own alongside his super powered friends made him special, or that a teenager being able to take down hard-core criminals was a remarkable achievement. Superboy, just by admitting his admiration for Robin, had removed the doubts he had been harbouring. For the first time, Robin felt like he belonged in the team and it made him indescribably happy.

“You could teach me?” Superboy repeated. “How long would it take?”

Robin pretended to look thoughtful. “Well, it took me a year to master it, so for you, maybe five?”

“Hey!” Superboy looked offended and Robin laughed.

“I was kidding! Forget stealth lessons, we really need to work on that sense of humour first.”

“Why would I need a sense of humour when the brooding hero works so well for my image?”

Robin’s eyes widened. “Supey, did you just make a… _joke_?” The older teenager merely grinned and Robin shook his head. “You did just make a joke,” he muttered. “A very bad one, but still a joke...there’s hope for you yet, Supey.”

Robin relaxed back against the pillows. Superboy was making jokes and learning to control his anger, and he finally felt like he belonged on the team. Robin decided that despite his current bed-bound predicament, he was definitely feeling the aster.


End file.
